


the helmet hides feelings that cannot be understood

by gunseldown



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 20:49:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20495120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunseldown/pseuds/gunseldown
Summary: “The helmet hides feelings that cannot be understood.” - Ayrton Senna, November 1988.They are racers; it is undeniable, inevitable, written in stone. He’s thought this before, but he never understood how terrifying it is.





	the helmet hides feelings that cannot be understood

Somehow, he holds himself together. It almost broke through when his car broke down as he crossed the line, but he held it in. He doesn’t give it away as he deals with the media after the race. He’s disappointed. It’s been a tragic weekend, but he’s composed. He hits all the right notes. His feedback in debrief is a bit muted, but everyone understands.

But Carlos sees. Throughout the whole day he knows that part of what’s keeping him going is the understanding he sees in Carlos’ eyes when they look at each other. Carlos understands - there’s a background frequency that no one else can hear, the muted roar of terror that he’s barely keeping at bay, but they can feel it in each other. 

He manages to keep it together. As they leave the paddock, everything is being taken down, packed up to go to Monza. Life goes on. The sun is setting on Spa; the shadows beneath the trees of the Ardennes forest come spreading out like long dark fingers shrouding the circuit, reclaiming its place.

He follows Carlos and the team - they get on the bus, they get on the plane. He feels emptier and emptier with each passing hour. He barely slept last night, and he passes between uneasy sleep and blank, numb waking as the dark sky streams past the window of the plane. Carlos is sitting next to him, and he’s a comforting presence. He doesn’t shy away from the contact between them. There are no words, though.

They go back home together. They know they don’t want to be alone. Not tonight. 

As the door closes behind them, Carlos wordlessly pulls him into a hug, and Lando hugs him right back. He rests his head on Carlos’ chest and holds tightly. His breathing is getting shallower, and he knows Carlos can feel it, and Carlos is stroking his back.

“It’s okay,” Carlos whispers and Lando nods. His chest is suddenly aching and his eyes are stinging, and then the sobs break through and he is shaking and tears are streaming down his face as Carlos holds him even tighter. “It’s okay, Lando,” Carlos is saying quietly. He understands. They understand one another.

The sobs wrack his body. All of the bottled up emotion, the exhaustion, the fear—everything is rising to the surface now like tidal waves crashing over him. His shoulders shake with the effort of the sobs, and it’s painful, the way he’s choking on every breath. His tears are all over his face and Carlos’ shirt, and he can taste the salt, but he can’t stop. He feels like he’d suffocate himself if he tries to stop, and Carlos is stroking his back and murmuring, “Let it out, let it out… It’s okay…”

“Carlos,” Lando whimpers between the sobs. “I don’t know why… I don’t know…” he says, because he really doesn’t know what emotion he’s drowning in anymore. He’s kept it all bottled it up—fear, anxiety, grief, even anger, relief—and he doesn’t know which one he’s feeling anymore, as it feels like everything is just pouring out of him. 

“I know, Lando, I know,” Carlos says, and his voice is hoarse too, breaking with emotion. He’s holding the back of Lando’s head now, stroking his hair, pulling him closer. Lando’s buried his face in Carlos’ chest, but he can feel it now. Carlos is crying, too. Lando hugs him tighter and now Carlos isn’t holding him, they’re holding each other. 

It sinks in now. Not just Anthoine’s death; everything. Who he is. The inevitability of it is crushing, but he doesn’t take the weight alone, because Carlos is with him. They understand one another. They are racers; it is undeniable, inevitable, written in stone. He’s thought this before, but he never understood how terrifying it is.

Even after the tears subside, it’s a long time before they let go.

Just before he falls asleep, exhausted, wrung out, Lando murmurs, “I’m sorry about your birthday, Carlos.”

The comment keeps Carlos up a little bit longer, because he’s never appreciated his birthday as much as he has today; he really has survived another year. He thinks about the star they all carried on their cars today, and the red star he’s carried on all his helmets since 2013. It’s only four days to go until Monza. In some ways, everything has changed. But in the most fundamental way, and it terrifies him, nothing has. 

_“Once you are in it, you are in it. You have to go all the way to the end because you commit yourself to such a level where there is no compromise. You give everything you have. Absolutely everything.”_ \- Ayrton Senna 

**Author's Note:**

> Coming back to add this note. This is in respectful memory of Anthoine Hubert, of course, but also of Maria de Villota, who coached Carlos Sainz Jr for his Red Bull Junior programme and Formula BMW tests, and who died in 2013, due to suspected complications from her crash while testing for Marussia F1 the year before; and all the racing drivers they joined who paid the ultimate price for their passion. I had to find some way to deal with the emotions of this tragic weekend in Spa, and this is posted with only the utmost respect for all those concerned.


End file.
